Page 22 of Festive

The gate comes into view, and with it, a sign. ‘Beware of the Dog.’ It’s a laughable attempt at security because there’s no sign of a dog anywhere. No water bowl, no chew toys. Just empty threats. I signal for the guys to be cautious, but I know this is quite simply a scare tactic.

“Eyes sharp,” I whisper, hopping the waist-high fence and landing softly in the dusty yard. The others follow, our movements in sync like we’ve done this a hundred times before.

The screen door is wide open. No cameras, no alarms. The whole place feels like a setup like we’re walking straight into a trap, but fuck it—we’re here now, and I need to get this shit with Amber dealt with.

I glance at Texas, who grips the door, pulling it open with a slow, deliberate squeak. The sound grates against my every nerve, but I rush inside, my gun raised as we step into a goddamn disaster zone. Pizza boxes, beer cans, trash piled up like this guy hasn’t cleaned in months.

Neon and Phantom fall in behind me as we make our way down the hall. Every creak of the floorboards feels like a scream in the silence, but we keep moving, guns drawn high. Ready for anything that might come our way.

Then, I hear it—a loud, obnoxious snore.

We all freeze, guns snapping toward the sound. Slowly, I creep around the sofa, and there he is—Bradley, passed out under a Baby Yoda blanket, a couple of Cheetos stuck haphazardly to his chest.

The sight of him sprawled out like that… what the fuck!

This idiot is no damn threat to us!

But that doesn’t change the fact he definitely was threatening Amber.

And if Amber’s afraid, then I’ve got to deal with him.

I raise my gun, the cold metal aimed right between his eyes. He might not look like much, but he’s caused enough damage. My finger hovers over the trigger, and just as I’m about to make my move, Texas shifts his boot, the floorboard groaning beneath his hefty weight.

Bradley’s eyes snap open, panic instantly flooding his face as he scrambles back, launching himself over the sofa in some ridiculous attempt to defend himself.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa… what the fuck, man?” he stammers, wide-eyed, like a cornered animal.

The guys raise their guns, ready to fire. But I raise my hand, my finger still itching on the trigger. “Hold your fire… I wanna ask Bradley some questions before we pump him full of lead.”

Bradley nods frantically, his eyes wide as saucers, clutching his Baby Yoda blanket like it’s a shield. “Yeah, sure, man, whatever you want. Just don’t fucking shoot me, okay?”

Stepping closer, I lower my voice, my tone dangerous and threatening. “Why were you trying to hurt Amber? Do you get off on hurting women?”

His face twists in confusion, and he scoffs. “Hurt her?Man, I was trying to get away from her crazy ass! She’s been breaking into my house, poisoned my dog, stole my grandma’s jewelry. She’s a fucking psycho! You haveno ideawhat that woman is capable of. She spins her web, uses you, then spits you out. She’s goddamn poison.”

My gut clenches, anger swirling as my eyes shift to Neon. “You did that fucking background check, right?” I ask Neon, still holding Bradley in my sights.

Neon glares at me. “Yeah, Pres. And nothing like that came back on her. But itdidfor you, Bradley. Domestic abuse charges, trafficking, stalking, identity theft… the list goes on and on.”

Bradley snorts, shaking his head, smug as hell. “Of course itdid! She fucked with my records. She’s got you all fooled, man. You guys are so in over your heads. That bitch has probably already got her plan in motion for your club.”

The arrogance in his voice lights a fire in my gut. My hand tightens around the grip of my gun, but I keep my control.

Barely.

I step forward, closing the distance between us, my voice dropping to a lethal calm. “You’re telling me Amber hacked intoyourrecords, doctored them, and somehow added in a bunch of false charges into the system against you?”

Bradley shrugs, an arrogant smirk plastered across his face like he’s won some twisted game. “Yeah, wouldn’t be the first time. She’s a pro at manipulation. I wouldn’t trust a damn word that comes out of her mouth if I were you.”

The air between us crackles with tension, and the guys bristle behind me, guns still trained on this idiot.

Phantom steps forward, his voice low and dripping with threat. “Sounds to me like you’re just spinning more bullshit to save your ass, Bradley.”

Bradley’s eyes flicker with fear for a second, but he covers it quickly with a sneer. “Believe what you want. I’m just trying to save your ass from making the biggest mistake of your life. You let Amber stay around? She’ll tear your club apart from the inside out. She’s poison, man. Toxic.”

That word—poison—hits a nerve, but I don’t let it show. I can’t let him get to me. But damn, there’s that seed of doubt crawling around in the back of my mind, whispering that maybe, just maybe, he’s not lying. I glance at Neon, who looks as torn as I feel.

He did the background checks.

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